Sweat It Out
by Erisella
Summary: Eames has a fever and Arthur decides to take care of him. Eames would rather not spend the day with the point man, but Arthur changes his mind with a very delightful and adult care.


**Sweat It Out**

**Summary:** Eames has a fever and Arthur decides to take care of him. Eames would rather not spend the day with the point man, but Arthur changes his mind with a very delightful and adult care.

…~~~~…~~~~…

**Note:** I don't own Inception. This was written for an inception_kink prompt.

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When Eames woke, he thought he was experiencing the worst hangover of his life. Though, on the way to the bathroom to vomit his guts out, he realized he hadn't been drinking the night before. That knowledge led him to only one conclusion. He was sick. _Well fuck me. That's just bloody brilliant._

"What do you mean you're sick?" the voice on the other end sounded suspicious and uncertain.

"You know, I expected that sort of reaction from Arthur, not you Cobb," the forger said warily as he hugged his blankets around himself tighter.

"You're known for lying, Eames."

"I'm not lying right now!"

"I sure hope you're not." The extractor hung up before Eames could question why.

The forger slammed his phone onto the bedside table and sat on his bed brooding, hoping that his angry could somehow drive the sickness away. Instead his body decided being cold and achy was the best course of action.

"Damn it!" Eames hated being sick, absolutely loathed it. Even when he was younger, he never took any pleasure in taking sick days. He couldn't think of anything worse than staying at home all day with nothing but his own coughs and groans as company.

He decided the best course of action would be to make himself some soup and try to sweat out the fever. As he headed toward the kitchen, his doorbell rang. He groaned at the thought of having to walk further than the kitchen.

"Whoever's out there, this had better be good!" he yelled as he shuffled to the door and opened it just in time to see Arthur rolling his eyes.

"Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Eames." The point man said as he made his way through the door, completely uninvited.

The forger couldn't help but sigh, exasperated, "I really do not have time for this Arthur, dearest. Can you just tell me why you're here and then kindly get your arse out the door?"

Instead of answering, Arthur simply set his things down on the closest chair he could found and proceeded to pull off his coat, "You should be thankful. I've taken it upon myself to take care of you."

"You mean you're here to harass me."

"Nothing of the sort."

"Then what good-" Eames let his words trail off when the point man placed a cool hand on his forehead. It felt really good against his feverish skin.

"You have a fever."

"You're very observant."

"I think we should get you into bed."

"And why's that?"

"Because the best course of action right now would be to give you some medication and make you sweat."

Eames kept himself from saying a dozen dirty things that popped into his mind at that moment. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself and headed to the bedroom, slightly disappointed when he realized the other man wasn't going to follow suit. He thought no one would blame him if he pouted a little when he pulled the covers high. It wasn't every day Arthur was willing to show up at his doorstep.

"You know, you're not doing a very good job of taking care of me from out there!" Eames shouted, having had enough of waiting for the other man.

Arthur walked into the bedroom with a smile that could only be described as mischievous. In his hands were two pills and a cup of water. He pressed the items into the forger's hands, "If you're a good boy, I'll make sure to take very, _very_ good care of you."

Eames obediently swallowed the pills. He liked where the conversation was going.

"Now I'm going to make you some soup. Stay put. I'll be back," the point man said, placing the half empty glass of water by the bed before he started to head out of the room.

"Oh come on. That's not fair," Eames protested, "I was good!"

"Then you can stand to be good for a little longer."

The forger grumbled as the younger man walked out. Eames laid there in bed, shivering and feeling too hot at the same time, wondering if this was all just an elaborate plot of Arthur's to make him do what the point man wanted. _It's sure as hell working._ Eames thought, not at all liking the idea that the other man might be taking advantage of his weakened state.

He decided he might as well wait, but the heat he was generating under the covers was making him drowsy. No doubt the medication he had taken aided that, but he refused to give in to sleep so easily. He kept trying to shift in bed to stay awake, but sleep soon over took him.

…~~~~…~~~~…

Eames woke, not quite able to comprehend what was happening around him. His body felt incredibly hot, but he was shivering with cold. His head swam and the entire room felt like it was moving strangely. Then there was the fact that Arthur was on the bed, pressing kisses all along the forger's chest. Eames was sure the fever was making him delirious.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?" the other man replied, not looking up from what he was doing, which currently was tugging at Eames' boxers.

"What are you doing down there?" the forger asked, craning his head up to watch, confused and yet extremely pleased.

"What does it look like?"

"I have no bloody clue and answering my questions with more questions really isn't helping." Eames said, letting his head drop back onto the pillow when he felt the other mans cool hands against his crotch, "Has the fever driven me crazy?"

"Call it unconventional medicine," Arthur answered before snaking his tongue along the length of Eames' new found erection.

The forger moaned, unsure of how to respond to the attention. He certainly wasn't going to make it stop, but the way the point man was acting was utterly strange and incredibly sexy. He inhaled sharply when he felt the younger man take his erection into his mouth. Eames' body already felt so hot and that warm mouth made him feel as if he was being burned alive.

He weakly thrust upward, trying to feel more of that pleasure coursing through him, but Arthur's hands held his hips down, in obvious control. Eames swore over and over as he felt the tip of his penis slide into the back of the point man's throat.

"Christ, where the hell did you learn that?" the forger said through gritted teeth, not quite sure if he meant Arthur's ability to deep throat or the ability to use his tongue so expertly.

The younger man slowly pulled back and smiled, "There are many things you don't know about me, Mr. Eames."

The forger could hardly suppress the whimper that escaped his lips when he felt the other man moving off the bed. Turning, he could see the point man loosening his tie before moving to remove his pants. Eames couldn't have been more surprised to see that Arthur was going commando.

"You are one very naughty boy," Eames marveled as the younger man crawled back onto the bed.

Arthur only grinned before taking the forger into his mouth once more, this time allowing a generous amount of saliva coat Eames' erection. Then the point man was straddling the sick man, teasingly positioning himself.

"What are you doing?" the forger asked, already knowing the answer, but his mind was refusing to accept the reality.

Instead of answering, the point man slowly lowered himself on the forger's cock, moaning at the sensation of being filled. It was all Eames could do to keep from coming right then and there at the sight of Arthur so completely out of character, so completely playful and sexy. Eames really, really liked this Arthur.

The forger tried to sit up, but the point man pushed him back down, "You're sick. You let me take care of you."

Eames couldn't possibly object as he watched Arthur moving his hips at a steady rhythm, all the while very clearly voicing his pleasure. The forger tried to hold himself back from babbling, but as his fingers tightened around the bed sheets he couldn't keep the incoherent words from coming out of his mouth. He didn't even know what he was going on about.

The point man's cool hands were on his chest and that tie just kept brushing against his heated skin. He couldn't stand it anymore. Eames took hold of Arthur's tie and pulled the other man close, smashing their mouths together and muffling the cry of surprise that escaped the point man's lips. Wrapping one arm around the younger man's waist, the forger flipped them, trapping Arthur underneath him.

"Damn it, Eames," the point man cried, not in as much anger as he had hoped.

"I'm feeling better already," the forger grinned, though his head was still swimming.

Eames moved his hips at a fast and furious pace, unable to control himself with how the point man writhed and moaned under him. Then those hands, those wonderful hands, were on his back, nails digging in hard and deep, and those strong legs were around his waist pulling him ever closer. The forger swore, feeling the way the younger man was squeezing him, their hips moving against one another in desperation.

He felt the edge coming closer and closer as he pounded into the point man, who was most definitely a screamer. Then he was coming, crying out in such pleasure his head spun. He fell on top of Arthur, hardly able to move after exerting himself. And how this all was supposed to help, Eames still hadn't quite figured out yet.

…~~~~…~~~~…

When Eames woke, he wasn't sure if what had happened had been a dream or not. Though he had to admit he was feeling better. He sat up in bed and stretched, wondering if he had really had sex with Arthur. A knock on his door made him look up.

The point man walked in with a tray of hot, steaming soup and placed it on the bedside table. Eames eyed him curiously.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Arthur asked, sounding almost offended.

"Did we…"

"Did we what?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Good because I just spent a good portion of my time making you soup and I don't want to hear another word out of you until you're done eating."

Eames laughed, but took the bowl of soup from the table anyway. The warm broth was good and felt extremely comforting as he swallowed it. He couldn't finish it all and was hardly able to concentrate with Arthur standing over him.

"I'm done."

"Alright," the point man replied, gathering the bowl and spoon then making to walk out of the room.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Arthur walked out of the room without a word and Eames sat back on the bed smiling contently. The soup was definitely good, but the best part was realizing he wasn't in the same pair of boxers he had fallen asleep in.

…~~~~…~~~~…

**Note: **I just wanted to write a little smut, nothing big. Hopefully this was enjoyable. Thank you all for reading and all feedback is appreciated!


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